


Fault Lines

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bratting, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Original Character, Pre-Series, Punishment, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: All Connor wants is to finish filling the application for the Winchesters' new credit cards in peace. All Sammy wants is to solve his Rubik's Cube in quiet. But when Dean is bored, there will be no peace nor quiet for either of his brothers.





	Fault Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Non-consensual spanking of a minor - if it offends, please don't read. Dean is being _much_ worse on the language front, please proceed with care.
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> Thanks as always to [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti) and [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) for the beta, and to [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden) for making me blush :)

"Dean, get off."

"I ain't touching you."

"You're in my way."

"What are you talking about, Sammy? I'm like a mile away."

"You're _not_!"

"Am too."

"Are not!"

"Am too."

"Are _not_! _Connor_!"

Connor raised his head. "Dean, get off him."

"I ain't touch-"

"Get _off_ him."

"Fine," Dean scooted a little to his left on the double bed. Sam eyed him as Dean settled about two feet away, but apparently decided it was far enough, because he returned his attention to his Rubik's Cube.

Connor watched the two of them for a few seconds longer from his place on the couch, then went back to filling the application for their new set of credit cards. Dad wanted them ready by the time he got back to town, but Connor didn't get around to doing it. He should mail the forms by tomorrow at the latest if he didn't want the old man all over his case.

He hardly filled two boxes on the form when he heard the bed creak.

"Deeeean!"

Connor looked up to see Dean had inched his way back to Sam's side and was practically hovering over him.

"I can help you with that," Dean said.

"Don't need your help," Sam huffed. Connor had to admit that when it came to stuff like that, his baby brother left both him and Dean in the dust, hardly eleven years old or not.

"But see, if you turn this layer by ninety degrees you'd have-"

"I said I don't need your help!" Sam let go of the cube with one hand and pushed Dean away. Connor was sure it wasn't all that hard, but Dean dipped sideways, catching himself on his forearm.

Just as Connor was straightening up in his seat, Dean rocked back up and gave Sam a shove. "Don't push me, squirt."

" _Dean_!" Connor half-rose, but Sam seemed okay, so he settled for giving his middle brother a furious look. "Go sit on the other bed."

"This one's more comfortable."

"I said move."

"And I said-"

Connor rose fully to his feet. "You get your ass to the other bed _now_ , or I'll kick it all the way over there. You hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean slid off the bed – as slowly as he could – climbed onto the other bed, propped his back against the headboard and spread his arms theatrically. "Happy?"

"Watch it," Connor sat back down, grabbed his pen and went on filling the form. There were some munching sounds – Dean had found half a bag of popcorn and kept himself busy with it. For a few minutes the only sounds were the clicking of the Rubik's Cube, Dean's chewing and the rustle of pen on paper. And then Sam's squeal pierced the silence.

"Cut it out!"

Connor glanced up in time to catch Dean throwing a piece of popcorn at Sam. He slammed his hand down on the coffee table. "Dean!"

"What?"

"He's throwing popcorn at me!" Sam sounded offended.

"Am not!"

"I saw you throwing it," Jesus, it was like dealing with a fucking four-year-old. "You wanna eat it, go sit in the kitchenette."

"I wanna sit on the bed."

"Then no popcorn. Put it away."

 "I'm hungry."

"There's bread and cheese, knock yourself out."

Dean stuck his hand in the bag, brought up a fistful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth. Connor sighed inwardly, got to his feet and strode to the bed. He grabbed Dean's arm and pulled to roll him over enough so he could land two smacks on his sweats-covered ass. Then he let go and took the popcorn bag out of Dean's hand.

Dean stayed propped on one elbow, the other hand creeping back to rub his bottom, his expression as offended as Sam's. "That was fuckin' dangerous, Connor. I had food in my mouth, I could've choked on it."

"Yeah, and we might've finally had some peace and quiet," Connor tossed the bag onto the end of Sam's bed as he went and flopped back down on the couch.

"Well, I'm _bored_ ," Dean announced

"Watch some TV."

"The TV here's crap. And I've already read all the comic books."

"Don't you have some homework or something?"

Dean's snort was answer enough.

"Go out for a run."

"It's _raining_!"

"Then work it out on your own. You're old enough."

"If I were old enough, you wouldn't be beating my ass."

"Tough. Now shut it."

Connor scanned the form and tried to remember what he was going to fill in next. He started reading the form from the top, corrected one box, then went on to the following one. He was finally getting on a roll when Sam's voice rose again.

"Connor!"

"Now what?" Connor looked over at the bed, and found Dean staring back from where he was perched on the end of Sam's bed, one hand extended and ready to grab the popcorn bag. Connor dropped the pen onto the coffee table, got up and reached the bed with a few long strides. This time he flipped Dean fully on his belly before delivering several hard swats on his ass.

Connor pulled his brother back to his feet, hurled him onto the other bed and stood over him. "Fucking. Stay. There."

"I was just getting the popco- _hey_!"

Connor snatched the bag, that Dean somehow managed to take along with him, out of his hand. "You want a real ass beating?!"

Dean stared up at him, lips pressed together into a thin line.

"Do you?!"

"No."

"Then fuckin' _behave_ ," Connor turned his back, but he had taken barely two steps when Sam's angry shriek came from behind him, and he spun on his heel and took in the sight of Dean with one knee propped on Sam's bed and the partly-solved Rubik's Cube in his hand.

"It's not fair that I'm the only one who gets to be bored around here," Dean said. He gave the cube a few quick rotations and tossed it away into the far corner. Sam leaped off the bed after it while Connor stormed at Dean.

He locked his fingers over Dean's upper arms, pulled him back, turned him and sat down on the second bed while unceremoniously dumping the kid face-down over his left thigh. Before Dean could break free, Connor twisted his brother's right arm and pinned his wrist on his back while trapping both of Dean's legs between his.

Dean fought him, but Connor was bigger and stronger and better trained, in addition to years' worth of experience dealing with his younger brothers. Once he had Dean in a joint lock, he hardly had to apply any force to keep him there. He landed three sharp swats on his ass.

"Calm down."

"I'm fuckin' calm!" Dean twisted in Connor's hold, and Connor smacked him again.

"You ain't."

"Maybe 'cause you're breaking my fuckin' arm!" Dean tried to reach Connor with his left hand, but the angle was wrong, and he could only swat him lightly. Connor applied some more pressure on Dean's arm and a few more spanks to his ass.

"Quit struggling and I won't have to hold you down," Connor caught a movement in the corner of his eye and looked up to see Sam with the Rubik's Cube in his hand.

"He ruined it," Sam's voice was hurt and accusing. "I almost got it, and he scrambled the tiles and now I have to start over."

"Yeah, like it wouldn't take you two and a half seconds to solve it again, you whiny little geek," Dean jeered, and Connor hooked his fingers in the waistband of Dean's sweatpants.

Dean started writhing again when he felt the pants and boxers being slid down, which actually served to facilitate the task of pulling the clothing bellow his hips. Connor eased the hold of his right thigh over Dean's legs for a second, tucked the pants well down and squeezed his thighs back together. Then he let his hand fall in a volley of swats that made Dean gasp.

"Fuck! Lemme go!"

"Not until you calm down."

"I _told_ you I'm calm!" Dean settled for a few seconds and then gave a lurch, but Connor just twisted his arm farther up his back and swatted his ass again.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"It's all Sam's fault, anyway," Dean craned his neck toward his younger brother. "With your fuckin' geeky toys and your whining and-"

"Enough!" Connor landed a few harder swats, leaving red handprints on Dean's already-rosy skin. "Shut the hell up, Dean, don't you fuckin' talk to him like that!"

Now Dean turned his head as far as he managed to glare at Connor. "Fuck you!"

That was it. Connor took a breath, then returned his eyes to Sam. "Get me the strap, please, Sam."

"No!" Dean's eyes flew wide open. He twisted again, more vigorously, and Connor pinned his wrist harder, fearing he might indeed break Dean's arm if the kid kept at it. Dean turned his head in Sam's direction. "Don't you do it, Sam!"

Sam froze in his tracks and looked back.

"Sam, the strap, please," Connor repeated. Sam resumed his motion and reached Dean's duffle.

"No! Sam! Don't fuckin' touch-" Dean gasped as Connor's hand crashed down on his ass.

Sam crouched and rummaged in the duffle, then stood up with the strap in his hand. But he looked like he didn't want to step over to where Connor and Dean were.

"Come on, Sammy, it's okay, c'mere," Connor kept his voice as placating as he could. Sam took a step forward.

"Sam, you do this and Imma break your fuckin' arms," this time Connor smacked Dean hard enough to make the kid groan.

"Sammy, listen to me," Connor said. "Just give me the strap and move back, okay? There you go, buddy."

"Don't, Sam, fucking don't!"

Sam climbed onto the other bed so he could approach from Connor's right side, away from Dean. Dean tried his hardest to keep his gaze on his little brother and Sam eyed him nervously.

"He can't get to you, okay?" Connor soothed. "I have him. It's okay, Sammy."

"It's _not_ fuckin' _okay_ ," Dean growled. Sam slid off the bed and stood by Connor's right side. "Sam, you hand him that strap, and you'd better sleep with one eye open tonight. Hell, you'd better sleep with one eye open for the rest of your fucking _life_ , you fuckin' hear me, midget?!"

Connor held his right hand out to Sam. "Sammy, look at me, buddy. You're doing good. Give me the strap."

Sam extended his arm, very slowly, his eyes flickering from Connor to Dean. At last he placed the thick piece of leather in Connor's palm, and Connor smiled at him.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Yeah, thanks a bunch, Sam," the venom in Dean's voice almost made Connor smack him, but he was already holding the strap and about to roast the kid's ass for real any minute now.

"Why don't you go in the bathroom for a while," he told Sam. Sam nodded, climbed the bed and slid off the far side. As he headed for the bathroom, Dean's voice rose again.

"Connor's gonna have to let me go _sometime_ , you know. And when he does, you better watch your back, 'cause Imma hunt your little ass down, you fuckin' snitch."

Connor's hand was shaking with the desire to start kicking Dean's ass six ways from Sunday when Sam halted and turned to look at him.

Sam's eyes looked bigger with the glistening film of moisture, and as he blinked, the tears spilled on his pale cheeks. Sam wiped them off almost absently.

"Don't… he didn't mean it, Connie," his voice was wavering somewhat, but it wasn't with fear or hate or rage. "Don't whip him too hard, okay?"

Connor could feel himself actually gaping, and for a brief second almost lost his hold on Dean's wrist. It didn't matter, though, because Dean wasn't fighting him anymore; in fact, his body went rigid and completely still.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was tiny, hesitant, so unlike the feisty brat Connor was holding over his knee just a minute ago. Sam turned his back on them and reached the bathroom door. "Sammy, wait, I… wait, Sammy, please."

The door closed softly behind Sam's back, and for a minute, neither Dean nor Connor uttered a word. Connor could have started working the strap already, but something in his gut told him to wait.

At last Dean's voice came, meek and quiet. "Can you let me up?"

"Not happening."

"I'm not trying to bail. I'll bend over the bed, it'd be more comfortable for you that way."

"It's fine like this."

Dean let his chest sink to the mattress and turned his head to look back at Connor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know-" he paused to take a breath, eyes closing for a second. "Don’t listen to Sam. What he just said."

He rested his head on the bed and grabbed the covers with his free left hand. Connor was still pinning Dean's right wrist to his back, but he could feel the fight had already left his brother's body.

Connor looked at the strap he was holding. He bettered his grip on the leather, raised it and brought it down.

The sound was too loud in the silent room. Dean winced in Connor's hold, but other than that remained still. Connor landed the strap again, pausing for a minute to assess Dean's reaction, and then settled into a rhythm.

When Sam had placed the strap in his hand only moments ago, Connor wanted to use it to strip every last piece of skin off Dean's ass. He didn't now. Yet he still kept going, hard, because Dean had fucking _earned_ this, every last lash that was now searing his backside.

The strap wasn't meant to be used in this position, but it wouldn't be the first time, and Connor knew how to make it work. Unlike he usually did, Connor brought the strap down twice on the same spot before moving it somewhat down. He swatted Dean's sit spots various times, feeling the kid flinching against his thigh, then moved up and started over. When the pattern led him back down, he applied the strap a few times to the tops of Dean's thighs, and then to his sit spots again.

By the time Connor had decided this would be the last round, he could already hear the soft sound Dean made as he cried with his face pressed into the bed. He wasn't crying because the whipping was _that_ bad; he usually got worse from Dad, and even then, Dean didn't always weep out loud.

That sound had nearly broken Connor's resolve to administer those parting swats, but he made himself think of Sammy's face, clenched his jaws and landed the strap hard enough to elicit choked sobs from Dean. He finished with several overlapping lashes, landed the last one as low on Dean's thighs as he could reach with his leg covering them, and then laid the strap aside.

Connor let go of Dean's wrist to rub his back. "Okay, enough. Enough. We're done."

Dean pulled his right arm so he could cross it with his left and bury his face in them. Connor went on rubbing Dean's back and let his brother cry into the bedspread.

It took a few minutes for Dean to calm down, but at last he turned his head aside, not actually looking at Connor, but no longer hiding his face in his arms.

"You wanna get up?" Connor asked gently. Dean nodded, and Connor weaved his hand under Dean's arm to help him off his lap and stood up along with him.

Dean had grabbed Connor's shirt in the process, and even when he was on his feet, he didn't let go. Connor tugged at him and Dean leaned against his older brother, enfolded in Connor's arms, sniffling breaths warm on Connor's chest.

Connor raised one hand and carded his fingers through Dean's short hair. "It's okay, Dean, it's over."

"It's not okay," there was a world of difference between the way Dean said it before and now. "I told you not to listen to Sam."

Connor smiled and stroked Dean's head again. "How about we see what Sam has to say about it?" Dean tensed, and Connor rested his palm on the back of his brother's neck and gave it a little squeeze. "Go tell him to come out."

Dean's grip on Connor's shirt tightened. "No, he wouldn't… why would he even wanna talk to me now?"

"Dean," Connor made him disengage and raised his face up. "Go. It's fine."

Dean's green eyes, still wet and red-rimmed, searched Connor's face for a moment, then he let go of his shirt and bent to hoist his pants up. He took a few steps toward the bathroom and turned his head to look at Connor. Connor gave him a smile and a nod, and Dean covered the rest of the way to the closed door.

He stood before it, unmoving, maybe listening to the utter silence on the other side. He raised one hand, slowly, and rested his fingers on the wooden surface.

"Sammy?" He said, very softly. "You can come out, but if you… if you want me to leave-"

Before Dean finished the sentence, the door swung open and Sam was gazing up at him, eyes as wet and red-rimmed as Dean's. Dean took a step back.

"I don't want you to leave," Sam's voice was hoarse.

"You should," Dean looked at his little brother as if he was aching to touch him but straining not to.

Sam gave a little huff, but not a really annoyed one. "You're so _stupid_."

The corners of Dean's lips twitched. "Yeah, I guess I am, ain't I?" He glanced down for a moment, and when he looked back at Sam, his face was almost pained. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. So sorry."

"I know," Sam whispered. He moved forward and into Dean's arms.

Dean hugged him, fiercely, his eyes squeezing shut. Connor thought he heard him mumble "I'm sorry" again, but he couldn't be sure. The two of them stayed twined together for a few moments longer, and then pulled back.

"Well, I guess I'll try and finish solving the cube," Sam said.

Dean grimaced briefly at the mentioning of the thing that had brought so much pain upon his ass, but then smiled at Sam. "You wanna show me how you do it?" As Sam seemed to contemplate, Dean added, "I'll shut up. Promise." Sam squinted up at him.

"No touching it."

Dean held his hands up. "Not in a million years."

"I don't take _that_ long to solve it," but Sam was half-smiling now as he turned to go back to his bed.

Dean also turned to follow, but Connor walked over to him, and he halted to look at his older brother. His right sleeve rode up some, revealing the darkening impressions Connor's tight grasp left on his wrist.

Connor reached for Dean's arm, and Dean glanced down at it, saw the marks and stepped away, moving his arm out of Connor's reach.

"Lemme see it," Connor said.

"It's okay," Dean pulled the sleeve to cover the bruising and looked up at Connor again. "It's okay. My fault. Don't worry about it." He smiled at Connor, a wavery little smile, and Connor bit his lip, and then nodded.

Sam had already settled on the bed, the Rubik's Cube in his hands. Dean joined him, carefully maneuvering to rest on his side with his head propped up on one hand.

Connor returned to the couch and picked up his pen, but didn't resume filling the credit card application. Instead, he watched his brothers – Sam with his fingers nimbly manipulating the Rubik's Cube while relaying his moves to Dean in a serious tone of voice; and Dean listening devoutly with his eyes fixed not on the cube, but on Sam's little face.

Connor looked at the form on the table, and put the pen back down. He came to stand by the bed. "Have any room for one more?"

Sam and Dean looked up at him, surprised, and then both of them gave him cheerful, sweet smiles. Connor smiled back, climbed onto the bed and propped his back against the headboard while Sam proceeded with the task at hand.

The half-finished application form was still resting on top of the coffee table, Dad was most probably going to tear him a new one, but Connor only settled more comfortably on the bed with his eyes shifting from Sam's face to Dean's, and in his little universe everything was just as good as it could get.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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